


Templar Tea Party

by Luthienberen



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Seven Years War (Colonial America), Templar Boyband - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: Haytham is determined to celebrate Charles’ birthday in style. His seneschal has been a truly devoted companion and become a good friend. He has also been working far too hard recently for the Order and deserves a reprieve. Therefore, Haytham shall treat him to a wonderful birthday…and their brethren will attend whether they wish to or not.Hence the Templars begin scrambling for presents. Hickey naturally has a brilliant idea for a birthday present and is smug about it.At the party Hickey unveils his gift rather gleefully and Haytham may just want to kill him while the others find it amusing. Charles is just mortified.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are some twisting of facts as historically certain figures wouldn’t be in Boston or New York at this time (for example Charles Lee had already left the Colonies and returned home, and Pitcairn would also be on his way home). 
> 
> However, I have blended game canon and history to form this alternate universe fanfic. Please beware of some anachronisms relating to birthday celebrations. I did do research and tried for reasonable accuracy, but wanted to throw in some extra humour and fluff. 
> 
> Happy Birthday to Charles Lee!
> 
> _Not beta read!_

_January 1764_

Haytham Kenway leaned back in his chair as he finished writing. Stretching without standing, the Grandmaster felt a surge of elation as he considered that shortly the Colonial Templar Order would be together once more.

The Templar brethren had not assembled together in their entirety, due to the war, for at least a good three years. Only in pairs or fours had they been able to meet and discuss the necessary details of how to implement order and maintain it.

Cormac’s defection and dedication to riding the Colonies of the accursed Assassins had aided in this task and granted them a breather. Now with the signing of the Treaty of Paris, which went into effect last February 1763, the Templars had been busy helping stitch together a land suffering from seven long years of war in various locations.

Haytham settled in his chair and read through the order he had just written. It would permit Pitcairn to withdraw supplies until his military service was properly arranged. Charles at least had family money to depend upon for a short while, but Haytham was ensuring that a number of their operations were transferred fully to Charles’ authority. His exit from the British Army would now allow him to put his full attention to the proper governance of these Colonies.  The operations would also give Charles enough living money to be comfortable – and to naturally pay Hickey whenever the wily man’s services were required.

Pulling his seal towards him, Haytham picked up a candle and melted wax to seal the envelope. Placing the mark of the Grandmaster of the Colonial Rite upon the folded directive, Haytham put it to one side to cool.

That was of course the problem, Haytham mused as he checked his quill before starting afresh. A number of their personnel had served in the King’s Armies – Charles, John and Monro in particular – while William had served in his vital position as British Superintendent of Indian Affairs for the Northern Colonies. Gist had been a faithful guide on land and a loyal mate to Cormac on the sea.

This had complicated matters, not excessively true, but enough to make it awkward to meet as a full party until finally Charles and John were free. Colonel Monro was also at liberty. They were free to meet, but also needed livings to maintain them. Hickey’s talents were easily absorbed in spying and black market operations with William overseeing him.

Haytham had decided much would continue as usual: Charles would dictate commands to Hickey either at Haytham’s wish or his own, which would take care of the times when William would invariably be aboard in the Frontier seeking alliances with the natives.

As it was, sufficient time had passed that Haytham could be certain it would be safe for the Order to meet as one again; thus he had wasted no time in summoning his brothers to Boston.

Haytham dipped his pen into the ink pot and wrote for a moment, before a cool draft from the open window scattered his thoughts. It was cold yet bracing. Rising Haytham went to the window and shut it. Returning to by the small fire, Haytham stoked it so as to encourage some further warmth.

Rubbing his hands Haytham smiled as he thought of William’s laugh, the crinkle of John’s eyes as he talked of his wife and Monro’s gentle voice, content and welcoming. Even Hickey’s brashness and Church’s self-absorption would be gratifying. It would be good to see his men once more in one place and time. 

They had much to discuss, but he primarily wished everyone to reignite their comradeship. A few weeks to catch up and share in good drink, food and cheer would raise morale immeasurably and offer much needed rest.

There was also another matter, which Haytham had not even breeched with his most faithful Templar, Charles Lee. A man who was a most dedicated servant to the Templar Order…and to Haytham Kenway.

Haytham sat down and continued penning his letter. He was fond of Charles. They had succeeded in forming a friendship despite Lee’s near worship of him. Haytham’s favourite pastime with Charles was attending plays and debating hotly with Charles which Shakespeare play was the best (Charles insisted on Macbeth, Haytham begged to differ). Discussing tactics and there usage through history were firm favourites also. Currently, the Spartans last stand at Thermopylae was their topic of choice.

Haytham could also guarantee on Charles being the soul of discretion whenever he paused to stroke a stray cat or dog.

“Sir?”

Haytham looked up from his letter to William Johnson. In it he was urging William to house his wife in a secure house in the south of Boston that they were arranging. Templar patrols would be frequent enough there to protect his family. 

Haytham’s lips twitched to see the young man standing opposite him. Captain Charles Lee stood with back straight, hands clasped and tucked at the small of his back. He no longer wore his uniform but his typical attire: beige breeches, tall boots, his white shirt showing at the cuffs and neck under a tailored ornate coat. Haytham knew there would be an elegant waistcoat underneath. His cravat, as was custom, was fancy too.

Charles was clearly in an ordered mood today, reflected by his calm manor and neat attire, rather than one of his depressed moods where his clothes would also be in disarray and his behaviour erratic.

“Yes Charles?”

Bright blue eyes, worn with exhaustion met his respectfully.

“I have completed the arrangements for our brothers. Three houses have been secured so that Colonel Monro, Cormac and Gist will abide in one, while John and William will reside together – as we discussed – as they are good friends. There is sufficient space for William’s wife and I haven’t neglected Hickey.”

Here, Charles frowned and his lips thinned. He still was not fond of Hickey, even though he had mellowed towards the man. Unfortunately, Hickey knew how to rouse Charles’ temper – merely tease him about the Grandmaster or show a lack of the proper respect Charles believed Haytham was due and the Captain was in an ill humour.

“There are rooms in a more secluded part of the house so William, as he requested, can keep an eye on Hickey, without Hickey’s behaviour intruding on his wife.”

Haytham smiled. “Excellent work Charles. My missive to William will carry even more weight now.”

Charles’ flushed with happiness at his praise. Haytham was pleased to see that he could still make Charles happy with the smallest compliment.

“Now Charles, what have you done about our remaining brothers, Weeks and Church? Where are their quarters?”

“I have arranged Ben to occupy a small private house not far the main business thoroughfare Master Kenway. He can live comfortably on the first floor while the ground can be used to treat any patients that come to his door; and suffice to keep his supplies and books and to even have a few patients to sleep.”

“Excellent thinking Charles. It will be a great advantage for us to keep guards too injured to be left alone.

 “Thank you Master Kenway. As for Weeks, I thought he might reside with us Sir, if you are content? The house is spacious even with the various house staff and Knights.”

This surprised Haytham. His second in command had been thrilled to share a place of residence with the Grandmaster and while he liked Weeks, it was startling that he would be willing to share Haytham with him.

Hiding his surprise Haytham merely nodded. “Of course Charles, I have no objection. Weeks is arriving on the Morrigan with Cormac, Gist and Monro. Perhaps you should arrange a servant to meet him on the docks so he can have his luggage brought to our house.”

“Yes sir, I have an excellent man, Dulridge, for the task. When are they expected to dock?”

“The last correspondence I received by messenger bird suggested tomorrow.”

“My man will be there sir.”

Charles shifted and Haytham signed the letter to William with a flourish.

“What is bothering you Charles?”

Charles flushed again, but spoke with confidence, no longer vibrating quite so eagerly in Haytham’s presence. That was a relief, for as much as Haytham respected Charles and found the Captain’s faith in him a great boon, it was sometimes overwhelming.

Their best conversations had been when Charles was relaxed and able to chat to him as normal, (well nearly), acquaintances.  

“We are not to meet our friends on the docks?”

“Ah, I see. No Charles, there are other matters we must attend to first.”

Confusion flickered briefly and understandably. There were no pressing affairs demanding their attention, however he didn’t argue. Haytham smiled reassuringly.

“I would like to check the guards again. I would rather not be horribly surprised, because the patrols were not planned properly.”

Charles cocked his head, “I understand Sir. Shall I bring over all the plans for the layout of the house and grounds? We have studied them extensively, but if we intend to review security arrangements again they may prove useful.”

“They would be useful yes. Now Charles, I am free and the afternoon is not far advanced. Care for a drink in the Green Tavern?”

The tavern had been the first place Haytham had stayed upon his arrival in Boston, with Charles also sharing in his role as Haytham’s guide. It therefore held fond memories, though Haytham rarely caved to sentimentality. 

An innocent drink in the company of a friend however, was harmless enough.

“My work is clear as well sir. I will just fetch my hat.”

“Five minutes Charles or I will have a guard bring you – and Charles?”

“Yes sir?”

“It is Haytham when we are not on business.”

“Yes…Haytham.”

Terribly amused at the constant reminder, Haytham waved Charles off, whose step had a definite bounce to it, rather like one of Charles’ excitable dogs.

Once Charles was out of sight, Haytham pulled out from under a pile of books a small leather bag that among other things had a book stuffed with papers. Haytham was smug. Charles would never expect his plan.

\- - -

 


	2. Chapter Two

_January 1764_

The afternoon was cold with grey clouds low in the sky by the time Haytham and Charles left the Green Tavern. Haytham glanced towards the sky inhaling the chilly air. It was refreshing after the closeness and odour of ale and sweaty bodies in the tavern.

His companion wrapped his cloak tighter, throwing one end over his left shoulder. Haytham chuckled at the sight Charles made: cloak over his long coat and hat low as possible to fend off the cold. Gloves similar to Haytham protected his hands. Haytham could see Charles’ blue eyes trained on him, moustache neatly trimmed over a mouth that was smiling.

“I suppose I do look amusing Haytham,” admitted Charles ending with a little laugh.

“No more than I myself, Charles. Shall we hurry before we become part of the décor?”

Charles laughed more loudly and nodded in agreement. Falling into step the two men navigated the streets bustling with people glancing at the sky with pensive expressions. Charles gave voice to their unspoken concerns.

“I pray it doesn’t snow. It would slow our friends down.”

It would also ruin his plans, but Haytham couldn’t say that so he simply agreed.

“Snow would be a nuisance, but the clouds are not overly threatening. I believe it must grow colder before the snow finally arrives.”

Charles examined the sky while still dodging the crowds.

“I am sure you are right Haytham,” he finally said, “it does not feel like snow either. Oh!”

Charles nearly stumbled but managed to gain his footing. He glanced down in puzzlement.

“What have we here?”

Haytham looked and his heart softened. As he always did around animals Haytham crouched and held his fingers out to the black cat that was mewing hungrily. Wary green eyes assessed him from by Charles’ feet – the man himself was still so not to frighten the creature.

However, Charles did make a comforting noise which had the cat peek up and mew again. Charles smiled encouragingly. The cat glanced at Haytham and the Grandmaster whispered, “Come on little one, I shan’t hurt you.”

Wriggling his fingers the cat seemed convinced and padded over to rub its head against his hands. Delighted, Haytham waited for the cat to become accustomed to his scent before stroking gently down a far too thin back. Haytham was elated by the trust the black cat showed and the affection as the cat arched its back, pushing fine black fur into his hands.

It mewed again and Haytham relaxed, not feeling foolish in the slightest. Charles would ensure no one witnessed this weak moment.

The near silent rustling of paper had Haytham and the cat turn towards Charles who flushed, but withdrew a wrapped parcel. It was the remains of the meat pie they had consumed.

“I thought we might be hungry Haytham,” he mumbled, hiding in his scarf.

Haytham felt warm despite the cold. Charles preferred dogs over cats and treated his dogs like humans, as members of his family and since Haytham was fond of both, Charles extended the same courtesy to felines now as well. Charles unlike the others thought of how a stray cat or dog may be hungry on the street and acted accordingly.

Such actions had helped endear Charles to Haytham and his understanding of Haytham’s propensity to pet animals in the street with his own love for his dogs, was another reason they had become friends.

“My thoughts exactly Charles,” said Haytham ensuring Charles heard the gratitude.

Charles grinned and crouched as well as he broke up the pie. The crumbs fell on the street and the cat meowed louder as it smelled the meat. Charles passed a bit to Haytham and together they fed the little kitty. Yet as they stood with Haytham greatly reluctant to leave the cat behind, Charles undid his cloak and took it off.

He shivered and without giving the cat room to protest scooped the little feline up and gently wrapped it in the thick folds. The cat hissed then relaxed as it realised it was warmer in the cloak.

“Charles?”

Charles shrugged, “Seems a shame to leave her behind.”

Haytham restrained from laughing.

“It would be. Thank you Charles for your timely intervention.”

“I do my best Haytham.” Charles cuddled the now content cat closer, her green eyes assessing them both in turn.

“Shall I carry her Haytham?”

“We can take it in turns Charles; I believe she likes us both. I hope Spada likes her.”

Charles snorted as Haytham reached over to stroke the cat’s head. She meowed happily.

“Spada is a fright but one warning smack from her paw and he shall be most respectful.

“Ah yes, it is never wise to cross women, even when cats.”

“Naturally.”

With that comment the two men started again for home.

That was how of course, a little cat, barely an adult, came to curl up on the best cushion in Grandmaster Kenway’s house. It is also is how a cat – named Sidney in honour of Charles’ sister – attended the first full post war gathering of the Colonial Templar Order.

\- - -

_Two days later_

“Charles! You’ve grown older!” roared William, engulfing the former Captain in a fierce hug.

Charles gasped painfully, “As have you. Now release me before my ribs crack.”

William rolled his eyes. “You survived a gunshot wound to your chest Charles, a hug shan’t harm you.”

“Indeed,” Charles felt his side, “but I fancy your embraces are far more lethal.”

Pitcairn interrupted with two arms over their shoulders. “Leave enough of Charles so he can tell us what he and the Grandmaster have been up to.”

“Oh not much John…just numerous plots to seize control of all trade in the Colonies,” teased Charles.

“Aye and the subsequent headache – I hardly think so,” retorted John.

Hickey meanwhile was speaking to Gist.

“Here, did you carry any beer on the Morrigan with your mate Cormac?”

Cormac who was lounging on the couch shook his head.

“As if I’d stock my girl with drink you’d happily swim in Thomas.”

“You wound me,” protested Thomas.

Gist just smirked and took a long drink from his glass of beer. Charles was now conversing lowly with Church, probably about his new premises.

Monro and Weeks joined Haytham where he was surveying his men. Weeks leant against the wall by Haytham’s chair and examined Sydney. The black cat had begun to put on a little weight and her fur was neatly combed. She was curled up, tail wrapped around her body ignoring her guests.

Only her twitching ears informed them she was listening to the noisy exchanges. Spada was stretched beside her on the red cushion, which was on the low table once used for papers. The large table where Haytham and Charles normally laid out maps etcetera was still free, but they had planned to use the side table for already signed papers and for tea and food as they worked.

Sydney and then Spada had stopped those plans. Charles had dragged in a low couch to serve for papers and they squeezed tea and food onto the side cabinet.

“A new addition?” queried Weeks, who had not seen Sydney until now, as he had been busy settling in since his return, including checking his affairs were all properly arranged.

“Yes, Charles and I found her on the streets two days ago and brought her home with us.” Haytham kept his voice neutral so his affection wasn’t too obvious.

Monro merely smiled and in his gentle kind voice said, “She is lovely. I am sure she will be much loved, though it seems she has an admirer.”

Monro petted Spada whose tail thumped happily. The tiny Pomeranian barked quietly then nosed Sydney who rolled onto her back, displaying her belly. Haytham couldn’t help but stroke her and Spada put his nose by her left front paw.

Sydney opened her eyes and rolled back over so she could reach Spada’s head. Now awake she began washing his head. Spada just yipped and settled down.

Haytham did chuckle then.

“Yes she does Monro. Charles is mortified and amused.”

Both Monro and Weeks joined in his laughter.

Seeing however that everyone was in good spirits Haytham launched into the first step of his plan.

“Charles?”

“Yes Sir?” replied Charles who immediately came over.

“Do check on our tea and cake, the cook is more intimidated of you than I.”

“Oh I sure she’s not,” reassured Charles who nonetheless did as obeyed.

Haytham waited for Charles’ steps to recede ere standing and gesturing his brethren to the table.

“Hickey, keep guard by the door and tell me when Charles is returning.”

The expressions of shock were swift and even Hickey was startled, yet he did as ordered.

“My friends, there is no need to be alarmed. Charles has not betrayed the Order. I merely wished to discuss this matter without Charles present as it concerns him.”

William frowned as did John. Cormac looked nervous, but then Charles still wasn’t overly fond of him so the assassin turned Templar was most likely anxious of harbouring a secret behind Lee’s back.

Monro saved the day in his calm manner. “Is this alluding to Charles’ birthday on the sixth of February?”

Haytham was impressed. “The Order is fortunate to have you working with us Monro. Yes, it is concerning Charles’ birthday. He has worked – as we have all – extremely hard the last few years to help establish the Colonial Templar Order. His loyalty is without question and his quick thinking has saved us more than once. Now while we shall all celebrate each other’s efforts towards the Order, Charles’ birthday looms first.”

Pausing to see if the others were in agreement with his assessment, Haytham was pleased to see that there were nods and murmurs of approval. Hickey was also adding his voice in approval, but then he was probably enthused about being recognised for his achievements. Haytham made a mental note for women and ale.

“Excellent, my intention is to host a party for Charles on the sixth in our house. Charles is not to know, so be circumspect. We shall celebrate late-afternoon onwards.”

“Are we to bring gifts?” questioned Church.

“Yes,” Haytham said coldly, annoyed by Church’s underlying worry over money.

“It does not need to be expensive, however gentlemen,” Fixing a steady stare on each brother, Haytham added, “I trust the gifts will be of a nature Charles is sure to enjoy. After all, we will desire the same for ourselves.”

“We understand,” soothed Monro who had moved beside Church and had laid a restraining hand on the doctor’s arm.

 “He’s coming,” warned Hickey who darted to the table.

Hastily the others began speaking softly of other subjects, though Haytham added quickly before Charles returned,

“I leave it then to your discretion my brethren.”

Hickey nodded, but eyes were distant as he contemplated a prospective gift.

Haytham would later recall the grin that appeared on Hickey’s face and would wish he had thought to ask. 

\- - -

The next few days were hectic. Charles came to the conclusion in that period that his fellow Templar brethren had temporarily lost their minds. However Master Kenway did not seem concerned so Charles attempted to ignore the odd behaviour.

Yet whenever he rounded a corner he would catch William and John plotting _something_ in various corners leaving him decidedly puzzled.

Weeks and Gist were apparently oddly excited about a nearby woods craftsman. Why, Charles had no idea and even upon asking the two men would merely shrug and change the subject.

Ben was busy dealing with new patients so at least he had a reason to be evasive, though Charles was beginning to wonder otherwise. Did the same man and woman truly need to visit thrice in one week –twice with a package?

Cormac at least was normal and Charles for once was relieved to have the man hanging about. It gave him an opportunity to notice how much time Cormac spent in Colonel Monro’s company.

Increasingly uneasy by his observations, Charles sought advice from William.

“Oh, Cormac admires Monro greatly,” said William when Charles inquired. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he added, “Whenever he is in port he finds an excuse to spend an hour or two – or more – with our esteemed Colonel. They have become good friends. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes thank you William,” replied Charles, suddenly mortified by his jealously. Immediately he sought out the rather strangely elusive Templar sea captain. Charles was many things, but when proven wrong he did try and apologise.

“I must offer my apologies for my behaviour Master Cormac,” said Charles one afternoon when he had eventually tracked down the man.

“For what?” asked Cormac, who had been checking his arm brace. The blade was out as he oiled the mechanism.

“Relating to a certain gentleman we both know,” said Charles a bit tersely then he blushed. “Sorry again.”

Cormac paused, examining him cautiously. Then he relaxed and his eyes were bright and smile relieved.

His accent rolled sweetly off his tongue as he said, “Oh that! Well let’s pretend it never happened. How about that?”

“Are you sure? You don’t wish me to give you a gesture of some kind?”

Cormac cocked his head, “Why?”

“You are a resolutely good man Cormac.”

That horrid grin surfaced. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Charles sighed and held out his hand. Cormac put aside his brace safely and seized his hand in a firm grip and shook.

“I suppose it isn’t. Just please, no ‘I make my own luck’ for at least five minutes.”

Cormac laughed as he released Charles’ hand.

“Now return to Monro and whatever you two are doing,” added Charles. The slight alarm at his comment was confusing, but Charles thought he must have imagined it even as Cormac picked up his brace, retracted the blade; he waved and left.

After that encounter, Charles filed away the odd behaviour of his brethren – even of Hickey who was casting him frankly devious looks and rubbing his hands, which set Charles’ teeth on edge. Though Charles reflected that was normal behaviour from Hickey so in the grand scheme of life did not mean much.

Charles later regretted that sentiment.

\- - -

_6 th February 1764_

The day had arrived at last. Haytham rose early as usual to check reports which had arrived in the night, afterwards taking breakfast with Charles and Weeks. As agreed Haytham then sent Weeks to distract Charles, with the two men heading to the docks to check the shipping office.

Cormac and Gist would meet them there and then come here ahead of Weeks and Charles. Weeks would only come to the house when it was four in the afternoon. So began a day where poor Charles was dragged around Boston. Haytham was only slightly sorry for that as he did require a distraction and this would also serve a purpose on keeping an eye on the various Templar lines of business.

Thankfully everything went to plan and just before four Haytham and the others were gathered in the room that Haytham and Charles had designated for entertaining guests. The floor was constructed of wood, polished so it gleamed. Pretty elegant chairs lined two walls. A piano stood in the corner to play at parties, with a small area devoted to hired musicians if the occasion called for it.

Today there were no musicians unless someone fancied a go at the piano. Haytham hoped not, while his comrades possessed many skills only two or three professed any ability to play or sing.

Sydney and Spada were sitting on Haytham and Monro’s laps respectively.

They waited in silence until they heard Weeks speaking outside. Haytham glanced at the other Templars who were smiling. There was an underlying tension, magnifying the buzz in his blood. The door swung open and Weeks stepped inside with Charles on his heels.

_“Surprise Charles!”_

The chorus startled Charles who blinked. His blue eyes went wide, bright in the wintry sunlight that fell through the windows.  

“Sir…Haytham?” he stuttered, mouth open in shock.

Haytham chuckled and approached Charles with Sydney. Automatically Charles accepted her as Haytham squeezed his shoulder.

“Happy birthday Charles,” Haytham waved at their friends and the table laid for a feast.

“This is for you, in honour of your service and out of friendship for you.”

Weeks eyes were full of mischief as he said, “Kenway threatened us with immeasurable suffering if we did not provide a satisfactory birthday celebration.”

Charles blinked, petting Sydney who purred in delight, bright green eyes watching his frilly cravat move with terrible interest.

“Pardon?”

“A mere joke Charles, now come in so we may begin!” Weeks took Charles’ arm by the elbow, careful not to dislodge Sydney. Together they trooped to the table where Charles was able to sit with much back hitting from his fellows.

Sydney battered Charles’ cravat before jumping onto the seat next to him where stared down Haytham, who then sat on the other side of Charles.

William raised an eyebrow as he sat opposite Sydney. “That is a very powerful cat.”

“Yes, she is,” commented Charles quickly, as ever coming to his defence. “There is no need for the knowledge to spread however.”

William held up his hands. “Peace brother.”

Haytham was grateful for Monro who intervened by depositing a yipping struggling Spada to Charles who cuddled and petted him before looking up, expression awed.

“Thank you,” he cleared his throat, “Thank you all. I assure you, this wasn’t necessary.”

“Yes it is!” argued Hickey, “We are all getting such lovely treatment, the Big Man says so.”

Haytham answered Charles’ inquisitive gaze.

“That is indeed true, but the point remains we are here to celebrate Charles’ birthday and thank him. Shall we proceed so we may eat?”

“My present is arriving after dinner,” said Hickey with a sly grin.

“How wonderful,” remarked Charles before Haytham could speak, “I _do_ look forward to receiving it.”

“Ah you are going to _love_ my present Charlie.”

A worried frown indicated Charles doubted that but he kept his silence…for now.

“I shall begin then gentleman.”

“Do hurry and open Haytham’s present,” urged Ben, “he has been so secretive I am most curious.”

Charles shook his head, hand petting Spada as the dog sniffed the table cloth.

“You mean, how _all_ of you have been acting oddly secretive? I thought I was going mad.”

Cormac slumped in his seat beside Monro. “No, not mad. We were trying to be discreet. We obviously failed.”

Haytham pushed the oak box towards Charles. Haytham was proud to say that the box was a piece of art. Into the lid at the top a pattern of interlocking leaves were carved, with silver picking out every other leaf. The lock was sturdy but the accompanying key was silver and fancy.

Charles felt the box in his hands, eyebrows going up at the weight. Brow furrowed and eyes bright with curiosity he inserted the key into the lock and turned. The scent that wafted out had Charles gasping. Fully opening the box he prevented Spada from sniffing the object inside.

“A block of tea!” Charles gaped at him, eyes so wide Haytham thought they looked like wells of water.

“This…this is a most generous gift Sir – Haytham,” Charles stumbled over the correction. “I…”

“Peace Charles, please accept it. It is an expensive gift, but it also relates to one of your new operations.”

Haytham watched as understanding dawned and Pitcairn laughed. “You cunning devil Kenway.”

Charles lifted the block and inhaled with eyes closed in pleasure. His voice was blissful.

“Thank you Haytham again. I look forward to building our enterprise into the tea empire. Who will be my team?”

“That can be decided later Charles, for now let us enjoy ourselves.”

Haytham was deeply pleased that Charles had appreciated his gift and relaxing he watched happily as his friend received his other gifts.

John and William had purchased a lovely tea set for Charles. The cups and saucers were fine china, so thin as to be nearly transparent. The decoration was of a fiery red dragon sinuously snaking around the cups. The tea pot matched but this time with a deep blue dragon, white foam spotting its hide from the ocean it had surfaced from.

“Well gentleman, we are having a fine tea here tomorrow morning if I may say so.”

Monro drank wine from his glass where the servants had entered, poured silently and departed. “Thank you for the invitation Charles, we shall be here.”

Nods of agreement even from a reluctant Hickey.

A servant entered then with the present from Monro and Cormac: a beautiful pale Pomeranian, so tiny it had to be a puppy. Charles was delighted.

“Oh, a girl or boy?”

“A boy,” said Cormac as he handed the pup over. “He’s twelve weeks.”

“Thank you both, he’s a dear. Here Spada! Sydney, look at the new addition to the family.” Spada was curious and sniffed while the puppy yipped anxiously. Very shortly though the puppy settled in a nest of blankets with Sydney leaping down to inspect him. After judicious sniffing she sat down gracefully and began washing him.

The puppy sighed in happiness and relaxed. Spada, not to be left out, jumped down from Charles and sat down near them, clearly on guard.

 It was terribly sweet and amusing and it took Weeks protesting that his and Gist’s present must be opened for their attention to return.

The gift transpired to be a beautiful miniature wooden ship complete with tiny sailors and real cloth for the sails. Charles gently seated the ship in the centre of the table.

“She is fit to sail, a true beauty. The Morrigan is a fine lady – thank you both.”

Weeks and Gist smiled and relaxed with more wine and now ale.

Ben wasted no time and offered a package, which when opened, were two books: one of medicine and one a collection of Greek myths.

Charles searched the pages with enthusiasm. “These are fine books to while away the winter hours Ben, my gratitude.”

“I hope the medical book shall answer some of your queries Charles.”

“I soon shall find out!” Charles glanced at Hickey, “And we wait for yours?”

“Yes, my gift hasn’t arrived yet.”

Haytham frowned but decided not to pursue the matter.

“Very well, let us eat then.” Haytham signalled the butler who had remained quietly by the wall and food was served.

Over an hour later, as they rested after a very fine meal of suckling pig, potatoes and carrots followed by sweet cake Hickey rose and left the room.

Charles was in too good a humour to question the man’s behaviour, a deep flush on his cheeks. His cravat was slightly loose and his jacket was discarded so he was undressed in only his waistcoat. In fact, they all were.

Haytham was facing the doorway with the others when Hickey entered with a cloaked figure. The figure was smaller than Hickey with a bowed head. Hickey brought the figure to Charles and dragged Charles around so his back was to the table.

“What on earth?” exclaimed the sluggish Charles.

Haytham sat bolt upright as Hickey pulled the cloak off the figure announcing with great glee, “Miss Ruth Flower, this is my estimable colleague Charlie. Charlie, Ruth is going to give you a little present.”

With a smirk that Haytham desired to wipe off, Hickey bowed extravagantly and stepped back.

Charles’ eyes bulged as he took in Ruth’s appearance. The lady was possibly in her early thirties with long dark red hair tumbling down her back. Her fair freckled skin was very pretty, her bare arms displaying lots of it. Her dress was low and corset tight, displaying a very fulsome bosom.

Her dress stopped at her ankles showing a disgraceful amount of very white ankles and her feet were in sandals which must have frozen her, unless, Haytham thought through a slight daze, she have been covered sufficiently.

Charles whimpered and Haytham glanced over to see Charles had shut his eyes. His cheeks, flushed from wine, food and enjoyment, were now scarlet and his brow had beads of perspiration.

“Aww don’t be shy,” crooned Ruth and her voice was very well trained. It was low and seductive. She swayed her curvy hips and sank in a graceful motion onto Charles’ lap, legs either side.

“What are you _doing?_ ” yelped Charles, eyes snapping open.

“Sitting on your lap,” commented William.  He was clearly enjoying the show, but then he loved the pleasures of the flesh. John who loved only his wife had risen and hastily left, murmuring his wife’s name.

Charles gritted his teeth as Ruth trailed a pale hand down his forehead, cheek and jaw, rubbing her fingers over his moustache.

“Now, now…why so reluctant? Don’t you know how to treat a lady?”

Haytham knew that Charles wasn’t innocent, but conversely he also did not wish to be so public either. Haytham discovered he was of a similar opinion.

Ruth undid Charles’ cravat and threw it away. She dipped her head, a low laugh ghosting across Charles’ skin, kissing his bare neck with curved lips.

Charles to his credit managed not to throw the girl off or lose his temper. He gulped as her hand fell to his lap. White and red now he gripped her wandering hand and pulled it away. His grip was firm yet not tight.

“I know how to treat a lady, so I shall be gentle as I _demand_ you to stop your attentions.”

Charles rose with Ruth yelping. Her legs crossed his back and Charles was terribly embarrassed and annoyed.

Haytham was frankly furious. Hickey had ruined a pleasant night with his tomfoolery.

_“Hickey!”_

Hickey who had been laughing and calling encouragements faltered at the angry expression and gulped. “It’s a bit of fun Big Man! And Charlie, come on, girls and beer are what life is worth living for!”

“I beg to differ,” snarled Charles temper slipping loose before he reined it in.

Ruth was silent now, watching him warily. Charles pulled her off him and she quickly put her feet down so not to fall. Releasing the woman as soon as she was standing Charles stepped back. 

Haytham knew Charles could handle the situation now and nodding at Monro the Colonel rose and went to the woman.

“I believe it is best that you leave now; let us fetch warm blankets so you do not freeze and we shall have you taken home with whatever money Hickey promised.”

That was excellent, meanwhile he would deal with Hickey.

Hickey seeing him approach in wrath jumped up and actually ran around the table. Incredulous, Haytham ran too and for a silly instance he was chasing Hickey around the damn table. Pausing at the stupidity of their actions, Haytham leapt on top of the full table easily advoiding the objects strewn about and quickly jumped onto Hickey who cried out.

Together they tumbled to the floor with Haytham pinning the idiot down.

Yet, before he begin his tirade, Cormac, Weeks and William were dragging him off.

William stood in front of Hickey while Ben nervously eyed Ruth as Monro led her away. Licking his lips anxiously he accompanied them either to gain Ruth’s time or to escape the show down.

Haytham suspected both.

“Weeks, Cormac, let me go.”

Weeks shook his head. “For what purpose Sir? To distress you even more? Hickey is not worth the fuss.”

Weeks addressed a mortified Charles who was attempting to redress. “Please convince the Grandmaster to desist. What purpose will this serve? We can salvage the evening and later punish Hickey accordingly.”

Haytham saw Charles’ angry glare at Hickey but slowly Weeks’ words sank in and he exchanged a long look with Haytham. His sigh was of utter resignation.

“Haytham, he is right. Why bother? I would like to have fun on my birthday and not try to murder Hickey.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yes,” Charles picked lint off his sleeve and his smile was sweet poison. “No beer or women for a week seems perfect to me.”

Haytham flung his head back laughing as he lost control and Hickey shrieked “NO!” but fell sullen and silent at William’s stern glare.

Charles joined in and eventually they returned to the table. Monro returned as they were sitting and still recovering from the upset.

“So,” he asked, “shall we have that tea now?”

Haytham smiled. Monro truly knew how to save the day. Charles brightened at the prospect and began issuing orders for tea and for fresh treats.

As his spirits rose, Haytham contemplated all the ways he could make Hickey’s life _interesting_ this week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charles did have a dog named Spada/Spado.
> 
> Apologies for the wait, I meant to have this up on Friday but I wanted to get the final bit right :).


End file.
